Hopkin's words, "Master has something on his mind."

Was it so? Was it possible? and if so, why was he unhappy? Young and inexperienced in the ways of the world, Amy had no suspicion of the real cause of Mr. Linchmore's sadness; in fact, as she told Mrs. Hopkins, she had not remarked it. Why should he be changed? What should he be sad about?

Often, in after days, Amy wished she had never found out the dreadful cause of this alteration.

Mr. Linchmore held a book in his hand, but his eyes had wandered from its pages. Amy followed their direction.

At the farthest end of the room sat Mrs. Linchmore, and by her side Mr.

Strickland. Listlessly she sat, and listlessly she appeared to be listening to her companion's words, although he seemed to be exerting himself in an unusual manner to please her, not a yawn, or symptom of fatigue about him. They seemed to have changed places, the weariness all on her part; she was evidently inattentive and absent.

Robert Vavasour leant against the back of the sofa on which she sat; like Mr. Linchmore, he held a book in his hand. Was he reading it? No.

Impossible! the leaves were turned over carelessly, and at random, two or three together, not one by one.

A little farther off sat Anne, laughing and chatting merrily with Mr.

Hall, while he was bending low, and speaking, in a soft, subdued voice, such things as only those who love know how to speak--Anne looking pert, and trying to appear indifferent to his words.

"He loves her!" thought Amy, as she watched them, "and she? yes, I think she does, or will love him too. How happy she looks, not a cloud to darken her bright path; everything is smooth for her, and appears in gay, golden colours. Happy Anne! May the light that sparkles in your eyes never be quenched, nor your merry laugh be chased away by the sad, sorrowful look that tells of the heart's best hopes faded away, and bright days gone never to return."

Again Amy looked towards Mrs. Linchmore. Robert Vavasour had taken the vacant seat by her side. Alfred Strickland was gone.

How different she appeared! No longer listless or inattentive, her face was brightened by smiles. She was all animation, talking and laughing almost as merrily as Anne.

How sad it is to see those we love smiling on others as they never smile on us, or whilst our hearts are overcharged with sorrow and heaviness, theirs are careless and unconcerned, insensible to our misery, if not even mocking our anguish. Then it is that in bitterness of heart we could lie down and die, or at least weep drops of agony, to think that our love could be so lightly valued, or we ourselves so neglected and forsaken.

Mrs. Linchmore knew her husband's eyes were watching her, knew, too, partly the agony of his heart, yet she trifled on, caring little for the feelings of him whose slightest wish she should have studied to please, and striven to obey.

Mr. Linchmore closed his book. It accidentally fell to the ground. His wife,--whose attention had been seemingly engrossed by Robert Vavasour, nevertheless watched her husband uneasily. When would his patience be exhausted? When would his pride take the alarm? Now! thought she, as she started at the slight noise the book made as it reached the ground.

Calling to remembrance her husband's previous suspicions, she asked Mr.

Vavasour to beg Miss Neville to play for a dance.

He was at Amy's side as Mr. Linchmore rose from his chair. Very stiffly she received him.

"Does Miss Neville intend retiring from observation all night? It was with some difficulty I found her out in this out of the way corner."

"This is my usual seat when I am not required to play. I should have thought Mr. Vavasour had seen me here too often to have searched for me elsewhere."

"You are right, I did not look for you elsewhere. What I meant to say was, that I wished you would take a seat somewhere, where one might catch a glimpse of you, instead of beneath the shade of this detestable window curtain. Have I got into a sc.r.a.pe by so wishing?"

"Certainly not," replied Amy.

"You think too little of self, Miss Neville. Look at Miss Strickland, who always plants herself in the most prominent position, so that no one can fail remarking her the moment they set foot into a room."

"Do you not think it is rather her beauty strikes the eye of a stranger?"

"It may be so. I do not admire her."

"Not admire her?" exclaimed Amy, "I must condemn your bad taste, surely everyone must think her beautiful."

"Because everyone thinks so, is that a reason why I should?"

"No, but most men admire beauty. It seems so strange you should not."

"I have the bad taste not to care about mere beauty such as Miss Strickland's; she is too proud, and, if I mistake not, her temper is none of the sweetest; no, I shall not choose my wife for her pretty face."

"Perhaps you seek a miracle of perfection, mind and face both."

"No miracle, Miss Neville, for I have seen both."

He looked at her so earnestly, that Amy felt confused, while Charles, who savagely watched them at a distance, felt as surly as a bear, and as miserable as he well could be. He could stand it no longer.

"Miss Neville," said he approaching them, "Has Vavasour given you Mrs.

Linchmore's message?"

"No. I quite forgot it," replied he, "It was something about dancing wasn't it? but I for one don't care a rush about it."

"Because you do not, is no reason why others should not," retorted Charles, turning on his heel.

"The next time a message is entrusted to Mr. Vavasour," said Amy rising, "I hope he will not forget to deliver it. I will ask Mrs. Linchmore if it is her wish I should play."

"Stay, Miss Neville, I can answer the question She does--but--"

"Thank you, I need no further commands," replied Amy proudly.

As they left the recess, Alfred Strickland,--who sitting close by had overheard almost every word,--turned lazily round on the sofa.

"Well done for the schoolmistress!" muttered he, "by Jove! how she snubbed Vavasour. That last was a settler!"

Robert Vavasour leant over Amy as she arranged the music and commenced playing.

"You misjudge me, Miss Neville; but I hope a time will come when you will think better of me."

"I do not think badly of you," replied Amy as he turned away.

"Thoroughly snubbed! old fellow, eh?" said Alfred Strickland, as Vavasour pa.s.sed the sofa where he still sat, "never mind, cheer up! and better luck next time!"

"Did you speak, sir?" exclaimed Vavasour fiercely.

"No, no, nothing of any consequence. It's chilly, don't you find it so?"

"Very," replied Robert, as he pa.s.sed on.

Had Mr. Linchmore, as Mrs. Hopkins said, anything on his mind, or was he blind to all that was pa.s.sing around him? Partly so; he had seen Vavasour's flirtation with his wife with uneasiness and displeasure, determined in his own mind to put a stop to it; but the scene suddenly changed. Miss Neville appeared, and he immediately transferred his attentions to her, or certainly a great part of them.

For a short time Mr. Linchmore was puzzled, but ere long he set him down as that most selfish of human beings, one who systematically storms a woman's heart until it succ.u.mbs to him, and is all his own, when gradually and quietly he releases himself from his victim, and leaves her heart to break or recover as best it can.

A female flirt is bad enough, but there are oftentimes excuses to be made for her. She becomes so from the force of circ.u.mstances, from undue admiration or a natural love of it; from some secret sorrow, or unhappy home, made so by a husband's desertion, something there must be to urge her on.

But how many men glory in and boast of their conquests, and tell of the many hearts they have broken. How sad is the idea of some young girl, just entering life, made the sport of one of these. She surrenders her truthful, guileless heart, in all its first strong love, to him who she truly believes is all her young fancy ever pictured in her brightest dreams--all that is good and n.o.ble.